


I'll be ready

by aftereighteen



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aftereighteen/pseuds/aftereighteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uptight businessman Michael has forgotten how to do vacations.  Enter lifeguard Ryan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be ready

Michael Phelps is good at a lot of things. Relaxing isn’t one of them. One of his best friends is getting married in a fortnight and, having missed the official bachelor party due to a last-minute emergency business trip, he’s sprung for himself, the groom and four other friends to take a vacation. Except Michael’s holed up in his bedroom, working.

He tells himself – and his friends – that his buddies don’t get it: they work for other people, they don’t own their own businesses, or work for themselves. They aren’t responsible for multi-million dollar contracts and their performance doesn’t alter whether or not other people can pay their mortgages and put food on their tables. If he were forced to really admit what drives him, Michael would quietly say that it’s not just the responsibility: he does get off on the power he holds to a certain extent. It’s an addiction, being able to control every last nanometre of his world, but in order to do that he must know everything that goes on in it. At all times.

Which is why, at midday in Las Vegas – three PM in New York, eight PM in London, four AM in Tokyo (Michael tried to find it in him to feel sorry for that person, but they’d fucked up so monumentally that they deserved to be on the phone for as long as he damn well needed them to be) – he’s on the phone and pacing. When he and his friends had landed the previous evening and the first thing Michael had done when disembarking the plane was to call his assistant and have her express some confidential documents to him, his friends had run through a series of jokes to let him know that they were surprised she hadn’t been brought along. Michael had bitten back that there was no way the pair of them could leave the office at the same time at the moment, that he needed her there to keep an eye on things for him. There had been no more smart remarks for a few hours following that exchange.

There had, however, been periodic knocks on the door all morning. Michael had reserved three suites for himself and his friends, but had chosen not to stay with the groom-to-be as he had been hoping to get some work done and knew this was his best chance at not being disturbed. It didn’t prevent his friends from initially trying: one of them had even gone for the tactic of sauntering in naked. Michael had thrown him a bathrobe in response. They had eventually given up, the groom leaving him a note to explain that they were going to the pool and it’d be nice if he joined them during daylight hours, preferably without his phone attached to his palm.

Michael fully intends to go to the pool at some point. Maybe half an hour before it closes. For one drink. And a quick sunbathe, before returning to his next conference call when a different part of the world has woken up and gotten their asses to their offices.

*

Michael relents earlier than he’d hoped: two of his afternoon calls are cancelled at short notice, and his assistant is unable to set anything else up to fill his time. With his email inbox miraculously clear, he has little else to do but put on some swimwear and join his friends at the pool. 

When he arrives at the pool complex, Michael is about to call his friends and find out which of the hotel’s five pools they’re lounging beside but soon realises he needn’t bother. A rowdy cheer goes up nearby and Michael instinctively knows his friends are responsible. Michael follows the noise and, sure enough, his friends have made themselves at home on a couple of neighbouring beds, entertaining a bevy of women and surrounded by a collection of bottles. Michael grits his teeth and heads over to join them.

As he approaches, his friends greet him enthusiastically – if not with a bit of criticism and some awful digs regarding his ability to afford a functioning wristwatch. Michael doesn’t have time to make a comeback: two of his friends join forces to scoop up a third, swing him around and promptly drop him into the pool to a chorus of cheers from the rest of the group. 

Their antics earn them the wrong kind of attention: the nearest lifeguard leans down from his chair, blowing his whistle and shaking his head. Michael’s friends protest and tease the lifeguard and, seeing two security guards begin to close in, Michael speeds up and steps into the fray in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

“Guys, he’s just doing his job,” Michael points out. “And that really doesn’t look deep enough for diving...”

“Lighten up, Mike,” his friend Luke says, rolling his eyes. “It’s called having fun, you should try it sometime.”

“There are rules for a reason,” Michael informs him tightly.

“Yeah: to keep boring people like you away,” Luke argues back.

“Hey,” Jeff, the groom to be steps in at this point, “remember who’s paid for this?”

Luke snorts, “Yeah, Mr Big Balls who came out here and doesn’t want to play.”

Michael can feel himself getting angry, and notices that the lifeguard has joined them. “I’m glad you’re all having such a good time,” the lifeguard says quietly. “But you should take this advice: dial it back just a little. I don’t want to end your party, so don’t make me. Okay?”

Michael’s friends mutter their assent, nod a little and mumble something that might be an apology. The lifeguard subtly waves the security guys away – who, Michael notices, look sorely disappointed that they can’t ruin someone’s day just yet – and heads back to his chair. Realising that this could well be a recurring problem over the coming days, Michael follows the lifeguard, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Would you rather I’d have got rid of them?” the lifeguard asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Michael shakes his head. “I, uh, wanted to thank you for putting up with those assholes.”

The lifeguard frowns. “They’re not friends of yours?”

“Oh, they are, most of the time,” Michael confirms. “But they’ve been out here for a while drinking and soaking up too much sun...”

The lifeguard shrugs. “I see it all the time, it’s my job.”

“Yeah, well, we’re here for a while so...” Michael pulls out his wallet and flips through the billfold.

The lifeguard holds his hands up. “Whoa, man. I literally can’t take that. I’m here to make sure everyone’s safe, I can’t be paid to turn a blind eye.”

Michael looks up at him, noticing as he looks into the other man’s eyes that he’s incredibly attractive. He then realises that nobody’s said anything for a while and clears his throat. “Look...”

“Ryan,” the lifeguard supplies, sensing the question’s coming. “And before you throw that out there, no, I don’t know who you are, so you’ll have to help me out with your name. Sir,” he finishes, blushing a little as he clearly suddenly remembers that he works at a nice resort and has to treat guests with a certain level of respect.

“Michael,” Michael responds, holding out his empty hand for Ryan to shake. The lifeguard does so a little reluctantly and Michael’s lost again for a moment in the strength and warmth of Ryan’s grip.

Ryan gently withdraws his hand, bringing to Michael’s attention the fact that he’d held on a few beats too long. “Look, Michael,” Ryan tries again, “there isn’t any point anyway: we only sit in the same spot for a half hour at a time. You’ll be throwing a lot of hush money around if that’s your plan. My advice? Make sure they behave themselves.”

Michael nods. “Thanks,” he says. Ryan nods in response and climbs back up into his chair, settling down to continue his shift.

There’s a chorus of laughter and catcalls behind him and Michael groans inwardly before turning back to his friends. He waves the nearest waitress over and orders a fresh round of drinks before flopping down in an empty spot on one of the beds.

Jeff comes over and slaps him on the back. “Better work on your poker face if you want to come out of this place up, Mikey,” he teases. “Because you’ve just shown us all your hand and given us exactly what we need to get you away from your beloved desk.”

Michael shrugs his friend’s hand away and rolls his eyes. “You’ll only manage that if you don’t manage to get thrown out. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m the only one allowed down here before long.”

“Well we can’t have that,” Jeff grins. “Behaviour checked: mainly because you never manage to get any action when we leave you to your own devices.”

“It’s you guys who need help, making sure you behave,” Michael points out.

“Quiet, Grandpa,” Jeff chides, grabbing a beer from the returned waitress and handing it to Michael. “Let’s go back over the details of how we do that thing called enjoying ourselves...”

*

Two hours, fifteen emails, three phone calls and several beers later, Michael and his friends leave the pool. Luke’s mouth and Michael’s credit card have apparently scored them a table at a club in one of the other nearby hotels, but first they clean up and head out for dinner.

On previous outings, Michael’s friends have attempted to challenge him by insisting that the entire group place their phones in the middle of the table, with the first person to crack and touch theirs taking responsibility for the bill. Unfortunately, no amount of expensive bottles of champagne, pricey steaks or rounds of shots will put Michael off – he makes enough money that he doesn’t care about having to settle up the majority of the time, plus he sees a clear link between his engagement with his business and his ability to continue affording the lifestyle he enjoys.

What Michael realises later that evening is that his friends have adopted a new tactic: leaving Michael to do his work thing and thereby ensuring that there’s a time limit. Due to the volume of calls he fields and messages he sends and receives, the battery on Michael’s phone burns out as they are shown to their table in the club. Michael tries numerous ways of escaping his friends in order to duck back to the hotel and charge his phone, but they’re having none of it. He finds himself being shadowed constantly, unable to slip away and forced into remaining at the club instead.

Michael initially resists any suggestion of enjoying himself, choosing to slouch in the corner and sulk. He nurses his drink, scowling at his friends as they laugh, joke and bring a selection of women over in an attempt to occupy themselves. Having left him to stew for a while, Jeff slides in next to Michael, grabbing a bottle from the table and re-filling Michael’s glass.

“Is the world ending?” Jeff asks.

“I don’t know,” Michael growls. “My phone’s dead, anything could’ve happened.”

“Right,” Jeff nods soberly. “And what happens every night when you, like, sleep? Or do you not do that anymore?”

Michael rolls his eyes and looks over at his friend. “Of course I sleep. And no, nothing bad usually happens.”

“Well then,” Jeff reasons, clinking his glass with Michael’s. “Chill out. Enjoy yourself maybe.”

Michael dutifully sips his drink and resumes staring at the writhing crowd. “You wanna dance for a bit?” Jeff asks.

“Not really,” Michael mutters, finishing his drink.

“Tough shit,” Jeff tells him. “Because it’s my party and I do.” He stands up, grabbing Michael’s arm and enlisting the help of their nearest friend to haul him onto the dance floor. They make their way to the middle of the crowd, weaving their way through the mass of bodies. Enclosed by the other revellers, Michael gives in to the inevitable, taking two generous shots from the next waitress who passes and begins to sway to the beat with his friends.

*

A piercing ring drags Michael into a conscious state. He rolls over with a groan, feeling his head throb and tries to place the source of the noise. It’s not his own phone – the tone is unfamiliar – but it is definitely a phone.

Michael hauls himself up and glances at the bedside table, but sees no phone. Which is when he remembers that the only phone in the suite is, for some unknown reason, in the bathroom. Michael staggers to the bathroom, dropping down onto the closed toilet lid when it becomes apparent that his legs aren’t going to hold his weight for the moment, and answers the phone groggily.

“Mr Phelps,” his assistant’s voice sounds far away, “will you be joining the conference call?”

“What time is it?” Michael rasps, cringing at the sound of his own voice and wishing he’d thought to grab a bottle of water on his way to the phone. Or prior to going to bed in the first place.

“It’s,” his assistant clears her throat tentatively, “ten past nine where you are. I tried emailing and calling you...”

“My, uh, phone’s not working,” Michael lies, kicking himself for the lame excuse.

“I understand,” his assistant responds gamely. “Would you like me to look into getting you a replacement?”

“No, I, uh, think I can fix it,” Michael answers, rubbing his hand over his face. “This is the conference with the haulage company, yes?”

“That’s correct,” his assistant confirms.

“Tell them if they don’t meet the terms of the contract on the next shipment, they’re fucking well fired,” Michael returns briefly to his usual mode of communication. “That’s all I needed to say to them, will you pass that on please? I need to attend to something else this morning.”

“Absolutely,” his assistant agrees. “Is there anything else you need.”

Some aspirin, Michael wants to say, and a lot of water followed by a full night of sleep. “No, thank you,” he says instead, before hanging up.

With the phone back on the hook, Michael gets up and returns to the bedroom, locating his phone on the floor and plugging it in to charge. It powers on and begins receiving messages immediately. Michael takes one look at the phone, groans and faceplants on the bed, passing out.

*

Music is the next thing to wake Michael up. It’s poor quality, and Michael wishes it would stop. He glances to the side, sees that his phone is lit up and vibrating and realises he can make it stop. Michael picks the phone up to silence it, but decides to answer when he notices Jeff as the caller ID.

“I hate you,” he growls. “What did you do to me?”

Jeff laughs in response. “You weren’t hating last night when you were tearing up the dance floor, you crazy fuck. It was you who kept downing shots, we had to drag you home!”

Michael rolls onto his back with a groan. “What time is it?”

“Time you got your ass to the pool, bro,” Jeff answers, turning serious. “Your boy’s here.”

“My what?” Michael asks.

“Check your messages, I already sent you a picture, but I think you’ll want to come down and catch the live show,” Jeff encourages. “You don’t have long though, he’s already been in the chair twenty minutes...”

And with that, Jeff hangs up. Michael suddenly feels a lot more awake, realising who his friend was referring to. He swipes through his messages and is surprised to see that Jeff’s actually sent a video clip: apparently it’s hot enough outside that Ryan removed the jacket and t-shirt of his uniform prior to taking his seat for his current shift. The video is terrible, but proves to Michael that he’s absolutely interested in seeing a high-quality version of the lifeguard’s rippling abs and firm pecs – preferably in the flesh.

Michael attempts to rouse himself, willing his limbs to function, but his head is still pounding – Michael hopes that this isn’t a symptom of his advancing years, rather that he had far too much to drink the night before – and despite his enthusiasm for Ryan’s body, his own can’t get on board. His phone is returned to its position on the dresser – on silent this time – and Michael allows himself to drift back to sleep amongst the comfortable pillows.

*

The next noise to wake Michael is a knock at the door. He opens his eyes, feeling a little better but not ready to deal with another human being, so resolutely rolls over, buries his face into a pillow and waits for the person trying to get his attention to go away.

Mercifully, the knocking stops quickly and Michael relaxes again, beginning to drift back to sleep. He doesn’t expect to hear a keycard in the lock, followed by the door opening and footsteps heading towards his bedroom. Michael scrambles amongst the sheets, sitting up and clearing his throat to push out a, “Who is it?”

The bedroom door opens and Michael locks eyes with Ryan. The businessman momentarily freezes under the lifeguard’s gaze, aware that there’s now absolutely nothing he can do to hide the fact that he’s unshaven, rocking horrendous bedhead, hungover and wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. He decides to try and style it out anyway.

“Has a private pool opened up here that I don’t know about or is this some kind of joke?” he asks coolly.

“Judging by the state of you, you need a sitter or a nurse or something, not a lifeguard,” Ryan bounces back with a slight laugh.

Michael nods, blushing and waits for Ryan to explain. “I’m on break,” the lifeguard reveals, taking a step into the room. “Your friends took a cue from you: offered me a decent tip if I came up here.”

Michael swallows heavily as Ryan gets closer, noting the fact that although Ryan’s put his jacket back on, it’s completely undone and he hadn’t bothered with a t-shirt. “They thought I’d prove to be a better incentive than the pool and a beer,” Ryan continues in a low tone.

“They’re right,” Michael confirms. “I mean, beer’s pretty low down my list of desires right now. But...”

Ryan raises an eyebrow, waiting for Michael to finish. “How much did they give you?” Michael asks, changing direction abruptly.

“They didn’t,” Ryan tells him. “I told them it wasn’t necessary.”

“This all part of your standard service, retrieving hungover guests from their rooms?” Michael wants to know.

Ryan shakes his head. “One off. I don’t normally waste my breaks chasing douchebags who can’t be separated from their phones.”

“I’m not on it now!” Michael protests. Ryan opens his mouth to respond and, with classic timing, Michael’s phone vibrates. He automatically swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching over to pick the phone up and answering without thinking. Ryan rolls his eyes and Michael gives him an icy glare in response, trying to pay attention to his call, as it really is one he needs to focus on.

Michael tucks the phone against his shoulder, leaning across the nightstand to open his laptop and quickly calling up the documents he needs to reference. A shadow and a flicker of movement cross his peripheral vision as he squints at the screen, but it’s not until he feels pressure against both of his knees, urging them apart that he really loses concentration.

Michael looks down to find Ryan scooting into the space between his legs, pushing his way forward and reaching out to rub Michael’s dick through his underwear. The businessman falters, stumbling over his words mid-conversation and frantically trying to figure out a way to end it – because he really doesn’t want to end his chances of getting some sort of sexual favour from Ryan – before he inadvertently becomes far more agreeable than he’d like to be regarding the person he’s conversing with. 

Just as Michael stubbornly continues his conversation, Ryan doesn’t let up his assault on the businessman’s senses. The lifeguard shrugs his jacket off and casually tucks one arm over Michael’s thigh, leaning heavily against the other man’s leg and rubbing his hand against Michael’s skin. Ryan’s other hand works at Michael’s dick – over his underwear at first, before dipping inside to retrieve it.

“Not bad,” Ryan murmurs, earning himself an indignant look from Michael. “That was a compliment, excuse you,” Ryan retorts, far louder than Michael would like.

The businessman places a finger to Ryan’s lips, gesturing for him to be quiet, but soon regrets his decision when the lifeguard manoeuvres his head to take Michael’s digit into his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he does so and sucking lasciviously. Michael forces himself to bite back a moan and yanks his finger out of Ryan’s mouth, earning himself a scowl from the lifeguard.

Michael moves quickly, regaining some control over the situation by standing up and yanking his underwear off, before settling back into his position on the side of the bed, Ryan between his legs nodding his approval. “Much better,” the lifeguard murmurs, placing his shoulders under Michael’s thighs and holding Michael’s dick whilst he wraps his lips around it.

The groan Michael emits is mercifully well-timed in terms of the conversation he’s still barely participating in. He grits out a few buzz phrases and stock comments as Ryan works at his dick, caught halfway between wishing he hadn’t touched his phone so that he could focus more on the lifeguard’s actions, and finding the whole thing a massive turn on. The fact that – hopefully – the person he’s speaking with has no idea that Michael’s naked and having his dick sucked by a tanned and muscular lifeguard makes the experience even more exciting, and Michael gets carried away far quicker than he usually would, unable to prevent himself from thrusting into Ryan’s mouth due to his attention being diverted by the phone call.

Ryan reacts quickly, relaxing his throat and accommodating Michael’s solid dick, the businessman gripping the lifeguard’s hair with one hand and taking his phone back into the other. “What I really want,” Michael chokes out, “is for you to re-work those figures and come back to me when you’ve got them back within the range that we initially discussed. Send them back to me early next week and I’ll consider speaking with you again. Is that clear?”

Ryan squeezes the base of Michael’s dick, moving his hand in time with his mouth and creating the most exquisite pressure that Michael’s felt in a long time. He allows the person at the other end to mumble the beginning of assent before barking, “Good. You have a great weekend going over those numbers,” and hanging up abruptly, flinging the phone down and allowing his now-free hand to grip Ryan’s shoulder.

Michael closes his eyes, arching his back and dropping his head back with a loud moan, partly because he knows he won’t last much longer, but also to deprive Ryan of the satisfaction of knowing he won. Sure enough, one final firm suck from Ryan and Michael comes down the other man’s throat, a litany of moaned swear words dropping from his lips as he empties himself in the lifeguard’s willing mouth.

Michael lets go of Ryan and falls backwards, spread-eagled across his bed, gasping for breath. Ryan wipes a hand across his face, standing up and checking his watch. “Well that’s at least one thing you wouldn’t have achieved today without my help,” he observes.

Michael snorts in response. “I’m perfectly capable of reading the riot act to a contractor without you.”

“Oh I know,” Ryan agrees. “But if blowing yourself is a skill you possess, I might be interested in coming back after my shift to see that one for myself.”

Michael pushes up onto his elbows and watches as Ryan slips back into his jacket. “And if I can’t?”

The lifeguard surveys Michael, seeming to consider this quickly. “Well then I feel like I’ve seen everything that you’re good at, given that it’s limited to shouting at people on the phone.”

“You’re wrong,” Michael shakes his head, sitting up further and pulling Ryan down on top of him. He’s pleased to feel the lifeguard hard against him, and ruts against Ryan briefly to try and illustrate his point. “What time are you off?”

Ryan swallows, eyes fluttering closed briefly. “Six,” he answers. “Though there’s a storm blowing in so it could be sooner...”

Michael pushes them both back upright and grabs the keycard he noticed Ryan had previously abandoned on the dresser. “Well then we’ve both got some work to do for a little while, but how about you come and distract me again once you’re done?”

Ryan takes the key with a shrug. “As long as nobody else distracts me at work, I’ll consider it.”

*

Rather than take a restorative nap following Ryan’s departure, Michael gets up and showers. He fully intends to catch up on his emails, but when Michael catches sight of his phone as he towels off, he can’t help but think of Ryan and the blow job. Faced with the reminder of how good it was and how he’s pretty desperate for more, Michael dresses quickly instead, forcing himself to abandon his beloved phone and head to the pool.

Again, he finds his friends quickly. Or they find him: the minute Michael arrives at the steps which lead down to the various pool decks, his friends stand up and give him a round of applause. When he arrives on the section of the deck that they have commandeered, Michael suffers a serious amount of teasing for his behaviour the previous night, but he barely notices. Michael’s far too busy trying to subtly glance around for Ryan.

“He’s over there,” Jeff points to a chair two pools away, leaning across another friend to talk to Michael. “Hasn’t been near us for a while so he must be due over this way soon...”

Michael nods and absent-mindedly picks up a beer. As he takes a pull, Michael considers moving to a spot closer to Ryan, but decides to admire from afar instead. He pulls his shirt off and lies back, dozing a little behind his sunglasses and soaking up the warmth of the afternoon. The businessman zones out for a while, brought back to earth by a loud splash and water splattering over his legs.

He sits up with a groan, preparing himself to defend his friends and prevent them from being thrown out again. Michael quickly realises that his friends were trying to attract the attention of the nearest lifeguard on purpose: as he’d been relaxing, Ryan had returned to the nearest chair.

Michael’s sure that behind the lifeguard’s sunglasses is a cool stare as he shakes his head slowly at Michael’s friends. The lifeguard doesn’t appear to look in Michael’s direction, so the businessman decides to test his theory. Michael stands up, finishing his beer and stretching his arms out, allowing his shorts to slide down his hips a little. He sneaks a glance in Ryan’s direction, shielded by his own mirrored lenses and is pleased to note that he’s attracted the lifeguard’s attention for the right reasons. Michael drops into the river pool with his friends and joins them in a circuit of the rapids.

They barely finish their first lap when the atmosphere on the pool deck changes abruptly. Despite the pool not being scheduled to close for another few hours, the other guests are quickly gathering up their things and heading for shelter. Michael’s suddenly aware that he and his friends are the only ones left in the water, and that a couple of security guards are trying to chase them down.

Ryan waves from his chair, pointing at the looming clouds which have appeared from nowhere. “Told you!” he yells at Michael, who nods in response and gestures for his friends to get out.

Michael pulls himself out of the pool by Ryan’s chair and props his sunglasses on his head. “Short shift then?” he asks as casually as possible.

“Just like I said,” Ryan replies, pulling on his jacket and climbing down from the chair.

“So you’re done then?” Michael pushes.

Ryan shakes his head. “Not yet, got to tidy a few things up.”

“Well,” Michael steps closer to Ryan, pushing into the other man’s space, “you know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah, working,” Ryan snorts, backing off and collapsing the umbrella which is attached to his chair.

Michael shakes his head, abandoning all pretence of playing it cool. “Waiting.”

*

Michael ends up working as well as waiting: when Ryan’s not appeared fifteen minutes after the businessman has made it back to his suite, he gets fed up. Michael does ensure that he has a couple of bottles of champagne on ice, though. And puts in a monstrous food order which, after he hangs up the phone, he frantically hopes doesn’t arrive at the same time as Ryan does. Because the presence of a lifeguard at his suite could be a little difficult to explain away to one of Ryan’s colleagues.

Ultimately, he needn’t have worried. The food arrives ten minutes after Michael places the order, and Ryan doesn’t show up for almost another hour after that, by which time Michael’s made a serious dent in the food and even more headway into his inbox.

Michael’s engrossed in a spreadsheet when he hears the lock on the door click, but he quickly saves his work and closes his laptop, pushing it to one side and standing up to greet Ryan.

“I knew it,” the lifeguard rolls his eyes.

“Your fault,” Michael protests. “You took far longer than I thought, what was I supposed to do?”

“Order up the entire leftovers of the brunch buffet, apparently,” Ryan replies, taking in the array of dishes scattered across the room.

Michael blushes a little. “Hadn’t really eaten anything today...”

Ryan laughs. “The state I found you in earlier, I’m not really surprised.”

There’s a moment of silence as their conversation tails off, and Michael takes the opportunity to have a proper look at Ryan. “You’re wet,” he observes.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “You so buried in your latest phone call that you didn’t hear the storm?” As if on cue to prove the lifeguard’s point, a flash lights up the window behind Michael, quickly followed by a violent roll of thunder. “That’s why we closed the pool,” Ryan adds unnecessarily.

Ryan really is wet, though, and Michael stares dumbly as he catches sight of a water droplet running down the lifeguard’s neck, over the exposed bump of collarbone and under his t-shirt. Michael wants to chase it, lick it, know what Ryan’s skin tastes like. “I feel like there’s a cheesy line about me needing to get out of my wet clothes coming,” Ryan remarks, breaking the spell.

“You could’ve turned up bone dry and I’d have demanded that you lose your clothes pronto,” Michael replies, finally making a semi-smart comment.

“Why’s that?” Ryan pushes, crossing the room to stand in front of Michael.

“Because I don’t want us to fuck with our clothes on,” Michael tells him, holding the lifeguard’s gaze.

“Well okay then,” Ryan nods. He promptly wriggles out of his jacket, pulls his t-shirt off, toes his feet out of his sneakers and drops his shorts, stepping out of them and closing the few inches between himself and Michael.

Michael’s a little dumbstruck by Ryan’s sudden nakedness and abundance of confidence – normally it’s Michael who’s the cockiest person in the room – and he doesn’t know quite where to start. His hands automatically settle on Ryan’s upper arms, running smoothly down the lifeguard’s strong biceps, squeezing as his hands progress over deeply tanned skin.

“How about a shower?” Michael murmurs the suggestion.

“You feeling left out because you’re dry?” Ryan asks, a smile in his voice.

“No,” Michael replies quickly. “I showered after you left earlier and it occurred to me that I’d like to return the favour you did me in there.”

“Done,” Ryan agrees, grabbing Michael’s hand and dragging him towards the bathroom.

Michael laughs. “You forgetting something?”

Ryan stops, confused and glances around. Michael raises an eyebrow and gestures to himself. Ryan snorts. “You can undress yourself, I’m sure,” he states, folding his arms across his chest and giving Michael a pointed look.

Michael shrugs and dutifully demonstrates his ability to strip. Ryan reaches out and claps him on the shoulder supportively. “Knew you could do it, dude,” he grins, stepping back into the shower and turning the water on.

Michael follows the lifeguard, crowding the other man despite the generous size of the shower area and pushing Ryan up against the tiles. He kisses Ryan hungrily, pressing his tall frame against the lifeguard’s tanned form, letting the other man know what he’d really been thinking about when he was working and waiting by rubbing his already-hard dick against Ryan’s hip.

Ryan moans in response, kissing Michael back, but quickly putting his hands on Michael’s shoulders and pushing down on them insistently. Michael doesn’t comply immediately, “Ambitious, aren’t we? You definitely weren’t ready for that a second ago.” He shifts his hips to feel Ryan against him and glances down quickly.

“That was then,” Ryan murmurs, grinding against Michael to prove his point. “I didn’t get off earlier, remember? It was never gonna take much to get me going.”

“Let’s see how much you can handle then,” Michael grins, complying with Ryan’s request and sinking to his knees. He wraps his hand around Ryan’s dick, stroking it a few times and enjoying the groan Ryan emits in response. Michael stills his hand, gripping the base firmly and sucking gently on the tip, teasing Ryan.

“Fuck yes,” the lifeguard exhales shakily. “Man, I love storm days.” He leans back heavily against the wall, glancing down as Michael slides his lips further along the shaft, taking Ryan into his mouth properly.

Michael rubs his free hand over Ryan’s body as he works his mouth and hand in tandem to steadily get Ryan off. The lifeguard offers a good deal of encouragement, swearing loudly whenever Michael does something which feels particularly good. When Ryan’s hips rock against Michael’s jaw and his hand clamps into the businessman’s hair, Michael is reminded how into it he also is, and can’t resist wrapping the hand which was roaming across Ryan’s muscles around his own dick.

“I see you,” Ryan grits out, drawing Michael’s gaze upwards and locking eyes with him. “Don’t go thinking you can get ahead. I’ll deal with that.”

Michael pulls his mouth off Ryan’s dick with a pop. He licks his lips, still looking up at Ryan and continues to stroke both himself and the other man. “Oh yeah?” he prompts.

Ryan nods, trying to use his hips and his hand on Michael’s head to get him back on task. Michael resists, pushing again to tease Ryan further. “What’ve you got planned?”

“You seem,” Ryan pants a little, “like the kind of guy who enjoys a good fuck.”

“What gives you that idea?” Michael asks, unconsciously gripping his dick a little tighter at the thought of burying it inside Ryan, and knocking himself slightly dizzy in the process. It really is a good job the floor’s holding him up at this point, he thinks.

Ryan rolls his eyes and lets out a grunt. “Oh, I don’t know, Mr Control Freak. The fact that you’re bossy as all fuck?”

“This from the man who’s trying to force my mouth onto his dick,” Michael retorts.

“You want jizz in your eye?” Ryan snaps in desperation. It’s a fair point. Michael can feel the pre-come between his fingers as he rubs his hand up over the head of Ryan’s dick and, although he doesn’t know the lifeguard well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s about to bust a nut. Michael takes pity on the other man – partly because he doesn’t want to piss him off to the point that the option of fucking the lifeguard is taken off the table – and slides his mouth back onto Ryan’s dick, pushing his hand back down his shaft as he does so.

“Atta boy,” Ryan groans with relief. He pushes his hips forward, arching his back to thrust further into Michael’s throat. Michael’s assumption was right, and Ryan wasn’t lying: the lifeguard comes soon afterwards, fingers digging into Michael’s scalp as he shoots his load.

Ryan’s grip relaxes quickly, allowing Michael to pull away and spit most of the contents of his mouth across the tiled floor. Ryan issues a noise of disappointment from above. “Not a fan of the taste, Mike?”

Michael shakes his head, standing up and rinsing his mouth under the shower spray. “Good job we did it in here then,” Ryan shrugs, pulling Michael closer once he’s done. “Any preference as to where we fuck?”

Michael’s dick twitches at the thought and he considers his answer as Ryan mouths at his neck, waiting for a response. “Well... I hate to seem boring, but the bed is really comfortable...”

“Dude, boring is good in that sense,” Ryan agrees. “Because I may be off tomorrow, but there’s no way a bunch of carpet burns would heal by the next day. And you’ve seen what I have to wear to work.”

It’s Michael’s turn to be disappointed. “You don’t want everyone to know what you got up to on your day off?”

Ryan shakes his head and grins slowly. “I want to tell them.” He turns the shower off and gives Michael a pointed look.

“Yes,” is all Michael can manage in response, taking Ryan’s hand and leading him back through to the bedroom, grabbing a couple of towels on the way. He tosses one to Ryan and dries himself off roughly as he walks, discarding the towel when he reaches the bed.

Ryan laughs. “Desperate, much?”

“Your fault,” Michael grunts, taking Ryan’s towel back and dropping it on top of his own before guiding the lifeguard onto the bed and falling on top of him.

Michael begins to work his hands across Ryan’s body again, kissing various parts quickly and without a real sense of direction, focusing more on grinding his hips against the other man. Ryan lets out a snort and Michael glances up to see the lifeguard smirking at him. “What?” Michael asks indignantly.

“I knew it,” Ryan says with a rueful smile and a shake of his head.

“Knew what?” Michael pushes, hackles slightly raised.

“This was always gonna be wham bam, hey?”

Michael backs off a little. “Well, yeah, if you want hearts and flowers, dearest, you’re in the wrong room. Isn’t this what you came for?”

“Oh absolutely,” Ryan nods, taking advantage of the space Michael’s made in order to roll onto his stomach. “My body is ready.” He glances over his shoulder – which, Michael notices for the first time, is adorned with a tattoo of an alligator, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make some serious scratches in the vicinity of it now – and wriggles his hips whilst he waits for Michael to come back down to earth. “Whenever you are,” Ryan encourages.

Michael recovers himself and leans over to grab the condoms and lube he’d left in hopeful anticipation on the nightstand. “And of course you’re prepared,” Ryan remarks. “Or did you get the concierge to send that up along with the mountain of food?” The dig earns him a smack on the ass for his trouble.

“You may think I’m boring,” Michael comments, coating his fingers and parting Ryan’s ass cheeks with his free hand, “but I came to Vegas with the intention of having a good time.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Ryan snorts.

Michael raises an eyebrow and pushes a finger into Ryan’s body a little more roughly than he might usually. “I’ll change your mind,” Michael promises.

Ryan arches his back with a groan. “Go ahead,” he nods. “Prove you know how to have a good time.”

Michael doesn’t need any further persuasion, working Ryan open and enjoying watching the other man writhe beneath him, reacting to his movements. He marvels at the flex of Ryan’s muscles and glowing tanned skin, enjoying the response he gets when he switches the angle to hit different spots inside the lifeguard.

When Ryan lifts his hips and slides a hand under his body to rub his dick, Michael withdraws his fingers and rolls a condom on, coating his dick in the remains of the lube on his hand. “You good?” he asks Ryan, lining himself up with the other man’s entrance.

Ryan nods his response eagerly and Michael pushes in steadily, head dropping back with a groan as his dick is surrounded by the delicious heat of Ryan’s body. He tries to show some sort of restraint, easing in and out a couple of times to allow Ryan to adjust, but when the lifeguard tightens his ass around Michael’s dick as he withdraws, the businessman gives in to what he and Ryan both clearly want and begins to fuck him hard and rough.

Michael digs the fingers of one hand into Ryan’s hip and places the other on the lifeguard’s tattoo, living out his latest desire to have Ryan bear his mark as he grips hard to gain better leverage as he thrusts. Ryan bucks beneath him, moaning loudly and stroking his dick faster as Michael picks up the pace.

Gasps and moans fill the air, a wordless conversation spurring them both on to reach climax. Michael suspects they’re both playing a bit of a game, trying to hold off for longer in a battle of wits. It’s a game he loses interest in winning when his vision whites out one too many times and his body threatens to betray him by toppling over. 

Michael closes his eyes and thrusts hard a final time, groaning as he comes inside Ryan. His movements slow, but he continues to rock a little with the lifeguard as he finishes himself off before collapsing on the bed breathing hard.

“Fuuuck,” Ryan moans into the pillow, voice wrecked, body shuddering a little. Michael isn’t sure how he’s still supporting his own weight, and persuades his body to stand so that he can get rid of the condom whilst he is still able.

Mission accomplished, he manages to grab a bottle of champagne before returning to the bed, propping himself up against the headboard next to Ryan. Michael pops the cork and takes the first swig from the bottle, nudging Ryan’s shoulder with the back of his hand as he drinks.

“Here,” Michael murmurs, encouraging Ryan to sit up. “The restorative powers of champagne are pretty underrated.”

Ryan rolls over with a groan, refusing to sit up but opening his mouth instead, apparently waiting for Michael to feed him. Michael raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not me who spat, remember?” Ryan prompts with a frown. “You already know I swallow well.”

“Totally different,” Michael snorts.

Ryan rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle from Michael, tipping some into his own mouth in his prone position and proving his point. He quickly follows with a loud burp and pulls himself into a sitting position with a laugh.

“Hot,” Michael notes sarcastically.

“You like the tattoo then?” Ryan smirks.

Michael blushes a little and tries to shrug it off. “No point being shy,” Ryan states bluntly. “If I’m going to help you enjoy your vacation, you might as well be honest with me.”

“Is that what you’ve decided your role is here?” Michael asks, reclaiming the champagne bottle and taking another pull.

Ryan nods. “Why, you think I’m not up to it?”

Michael shakes his head. “Oh no, you’re the man for the job,” he grins.

*

Michael wakes up a little disorientated the following morning. He knows where he is, so it takes him a minute to figure out why he feels out of sorts. When he opens his eyes, it all becomes clear: Ryan’s sprawled out amongst the sheets next to him, face down and breathing steadily, but occupying what is usually Michael’s side of the bed.

A slow smile spreads across Michael’s face as he recalls the details of their night together – it’s a long time since he’s woken up feeling so sated. Michael’s torn: his dick is telling him pretty decisively that he should wake Ryan up and continue where they left off prior to falling asleep, but his innate sense of responsibility encourages him to leave the lifeguard to get a little more sleep and use the time to get some work cleared.

The latter wins out, and without really thinking much more about it, Michael eases himself up and leans over Ryan’s sleeping form to reach for his phone. His hand closes around it, but he jerks in surprise when Ryan mumbles from beneath him, “Don’t even think about it.”

Michael swears under his breath, frozen over the lifeguard and totally caught in the act. The sheets rustle and Michael can tell that Ryan rolls over onto his back. “Go back to sleep,” Michael whispers. “It’s still early.”

“I know,” Ryan slurs groggily. “It’s m’day off.” He stretches his arms out, arching his back and yawning. Michael can’t help but glance down at him and as soon as he does he feels his resolve to work weakening.

“And it’s Saturday,” Ryan persists, leaning forward to kiss Michael’s outstretched arm. “Surely you take Saturdays off? Especially when you’re on vacation in the first place.”

“Persuade me,” Michael challenges, withdrawing his arm from across the bed and returning to his previous position lying next to Ryan.

Ryan shifts further to cover Michael’s body with his own, pressing his muscular form against the businessman. The lifeguard doesn’t say anything, merely raises an eyebrow. Michael groans and Ryan cackles in response. “So easy,” he grins.

“And you’re not?” Michael retorts.

“I don’t deny that I’m easy for you,” Ryan smiles. “Fuck knows why, because you’re pretty much an asshole. Maybe it’s because you’re a sexy one.”

“And you’re talking yourself out of a day in bed...” Michael reaches towards his phone again, but Ryan quickly bats his hand away, knocking Michael’s phone off the nightstand and across the room in the process.

“Oops!” Ryan shrugs with mock innocence. “Now what will you do all day?”

“Well,” Michael offers, grabbing Ryan’s ass and pulling his body closer so that their hips grind together, “seeing as you potentially broke my phone and took away my ability to work, how about you run some ideas past me?”

“Now that,” Ryan nods, leaning down and working the skin on Michael’s neck with his lips, “is a good idea.”


End file.
